Didi to the kiddies

Some years ago, I was associated with an NGO called Akanksha that works for children from the slums. I was almost like a teacher to the children there, albeit with a slight difference. My role was primarily that of a patient listener besides other things. “They don’t have anyone at home who can spare a little time for them to listen to the mundane things they want to share,” a collegue at Akanksha had told me. And that is when my association as a ‘Didi’ started with the brats.
Truly enough, I shared a beautiful relationship with each one of them by simply lending a ear. It could be anything they would want to tell me, right from what happened in school that day to the fact that their father was supposed to take them out that evening for a glass of sugarcane juice.
For me, there was no trouble in donning the role of a listener. All I had to do was remember my own school days of how I would love to share what happened in school with my mother and sister.
I was also amazed by how easily the kids took to me so much so that they would squabble with each other over who would hold my hand or who would sit next to me. The attention and the love I got from them is what I would cherish forever.
It was great when these six and seven-year-olds, especially girls would come up to me and say, “Didi, aap mere ghar aao, mai aapke liye chai banaoongi” (Didi, come to my place. I will make tea for you)
It’s been a long time that I left Akanksha. They must have all grown up now. Perhaps some must have been forced to drop out of school. Wherever they are, I wish they are doing something worthwhile with their lives.